


Secrets of the Brandywine

by Gaaladrieel



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Drowning, F/M, Fighting, Timeline What Timeline, precious lil Frodo, the best uncle Bilbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-16
Updated: 2017-04-16
Packaged: 2018-10-19 18:18:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10645395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gaaladrieel/pseuds/Gaaladrieel
Summary: Some said Drogo had been too heavy after their dinner, some even dared to say aloud that Primula had pushed her husband into the water, Drogo taking her with him. But they were rumours, horrible rumours. Frodo would always believe what most hobbits said, it had been a tragic accident.But what really did happen the day they went boating on the Brandywine river?A mathom for you, dear Tolkienites, on the occasion of my birthday! <3





	Secrets of the Brandywine

“I’m so sorry, Frodo… So sorry, my dear lad...” His grandfather, Gorbadoc, had looked at him with wet eyes and red, round cheeks, and his lips had quivered. His warm hand slid slowly down Frodo’s arm, whispering “my daughter...” as he turned away from him, and into his wife’s arms.

He hadn’t believed him... How could he? How can a child believe that his parents have passed, just moments after having dinner with them, even if it is their own family telling them so? How can a child believe such a thing to have happened, mere moments after getting hugs and kisses from both? It is a hard thing for a child, to believe and understand that their parents are gone, never to be seen again, despite the whispers from the corners, telling him his parents have drowned. 

But then he had looked up at his Uncle Bilbo, who had for once joined them for dinner at Brandy Hall, and seen how his eyes had sparkled in the dim, warm light from the candles, a single, shiny tear sliding down his cheek when their eyes met.

He had screamed then, the sound foreign and loud in his own ears, quickly fading into a hoarse “no.” When he had fallen to his knees, his face in his hands as the tears that had welled up in his eyes ran down his cheeks, Bilbo had run from where he stood by the door. But burying his face against his Uncle’s shoulder only made his sobs grow louder, the smell of him similar to his dad’s.

“It will be alright, my dear Frodo... It will be alright...” He had whispered into his curls.

But little did they know, that now and then while growing up, Frodo would be reminded of his parents’ passing in one of the worst ways, through rumours, as if someone’s death was to be gossiped about. Some said Drogo had been too heavy after their dinner, some even dared to say aloud that Primula had pushed her husband into the water, Drogo taking her with him.

But they were rumours, horrible rumours. Frodo would always believe what most hobbits said, it had been a tragic accident. That’s all it had been.

 

 

Or?

 

**

 

 

It had been such a lovely day, autumn had reached the Shire, painting Buckland in a multitude of warm hues, the sun had shone all day, and Primula had proudly worn a dress matching the colours around her.  
  
“Isn’t it nice with a walk after dinner? They can be so loud that family of ours, it’s warm in there too.”

“It is,” Drogo says, taking his wife’s hand in his own. “But why do you insist on us going out in the boat?”

“Oh, come on!” Primula laughs. “You enjoy our little adventures down the river! And who knows, maybe we’ll catch a fish or two for tomorrow’s dinner.”

Although rarely, he did enjoy their boat trips, but he would never admit that to his wife. Tightening the hold on her hand, Drogo climbs into the little boat after her. His movements make it sway, if only a little, Prim laughing when he grabs her with his free hand.

It’s Prim who rows the boat down the Brandywine, her light brown curls golden in the evening sunlight, and it’s with soft eyes and smile Drogo looks at her.

“We should’ve taken Frodo with us,” He says.

“But he was having such fun with the other children,” Prim smiles. “We’ll bring him next time, I know he’d love to.”

 

They sit there in content silence for a while, only exchanging smiles and kisses. Until there’s a tug on the end of the fishing pole in Drogo’s hand.

“Oh!” he exclaims, Prim’s laughter a happy, bubbling sound beside him as he peers over the side of the boat. “I caught one!”

The boat wobbles as Drogo rocks back and forth trying to pull the fish up and into the boat, but it’s a big one, and just as Prim grabs his waistcoat and pulls him back so he won’t fall into the water, the line snaps, the fish swimming away, and Drogo falling onto his back in the boat.

Prim laughs at Drogo’s fall, but the sound fades with the echo of it among the trees when she looks at her husband. He’s gone pale, his cheeks cold by the touch.

“Ripples,” he says when looking at her, Prim frowning as she looks at the river.

A gust of wind blows through the trees, and despite the sun still being high in the sky and warming considerably, Prim shivers. The leaves rustle as another small gust blows over the river, the sound like a soft little tune, as if the wind whispers to the trees.

It grows awfully quiet as Drogo holds onto the side, and peers into the water, Prim looking around, listening for the birdsong that was just there. But all she can hear is the leaves in the wind, the gentle swooshing of water as their boat moves.

The ripples by the boat grow larger. “There’s something down there,” Drogo says as he rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The boat bumps gently against the riverbank when he once more looks down into the water, Prim grabbing the back of his trousers. And with his wife’s tight hold on him, Drogo leans over the side of the boat, a shiver going down his back as he puts his hand in the water.

“What is it?” Prim asks as he sits up in the boat.

Drogo looks into his cupped hand for a moment, hesitantly opening it so Prim can see. “A ring!” she exclaims, a smile on her lips. She shuffles closer to her husband, not noticing the frown on his forehead deepening as she does, her eyes glued to the ring in his palm.

“It’s so shiny,” she says softly, tilting her head, “So pretty.”

Drogo’s hand snaps shut, and Prim’s eyes go wide, before she frowns at the clenched fist.

“It’s mine,” Drogo sneers when she looks at him, his dark eyes staring back at her.

“Yours?” she scoffs. “You found it on the bottom of the river! If it belongs to anyone, it should be me!”

“Hah!” Drogo exclaims, pulling his hand towards himself, and into his lap. “Why should it be yours? I found it.”

“You may have found it, but you should give it me! I’m your wife, lest you’ve forgotten.”

“How could I, you always want this and that from me! And speaking of, you probably even married me just because I’m a Baggins! A respectable and wealthy one too.”

It’s with a loud gasp Prim grabs her husband’s arm. “How dare you!” She shouts, “That’s nonsense!”

“Yet you want all I have!”

Growling, Primula grabs her husband’s hand still clenched around the ring, her other the front of his shirt.

“Oh, don’t you dare!” Drogo says between gritted teeth. Grabbing his wife’s arm holding onto his shirt, Drogo tries to push her away. But their movements makes the boat sway as it drifts further down the river, and to the middle of it.

And Prim is strong. She presses her fingernails into the skin of Drogo’s hand, and are able to get two fingers under his. But Drogo only clenches his hand tighter as he tries to shake off her hand, and pulls his wife against his chest with a hand on her hip, just as Prim pushes him away. With a scream, they both fall into the river with a loud splash, Drogo on his back, arm around his wife.

It’s eerie quiet for a moment, a faint humming growing louder in their ears until they break the surface, the sound of the water sploshing mingling with their gasps. Drogo still has his arm around his wife, and Prim grins as she puts both legs around his waist, and grabs his hand again. Drogo tries to push her off him, his balled fist against her palm, his other hand flat against her chest.

Prim tries to pry his hand open, but Drogo waves his arm around, and both go under the water for a moment. Both gasp, and growl at each other when they come up again, and as Drogo reaches out to grab Prim with both hands, her hand still holding onto his fist, she takes the ring from him.

“Ha!” she exclaims, triumphantly holding up the ring.

Drogo grabs her by the shoulders, Prim grabbing the front of his shirt as he pushes her under the water, a few bubbles the only sign of her for a moment. Getting her head above water, Prim gasps and coughs, her arms flailing before she gets a hold on Drogo’s shoulder.

Drogo had always loved it when his wife put her hand on the back of his neck, stroking the skin, and combing through his dark curls. But now, now it makes him scream. Only because of this sick little thing hidden in Prim’s clenched hand. She pulls his hair, forcing him to the side as she leans over, legs still around his waist.

The wind sings its way through the trees, the leaves dancing. The sky above them has grown dark, the air cold. But none of them notices, their eyes and hands on each other as Prim’s side hits the water, her movements and the muddy ground making Drogo lose his footing.

Prim lets out a small scream when he falls forward, pushing his wife under the water as she pulls him under, both arms around his neck.

 

And it’s still together, arms around each other, they’re later found further down the Brandywine, lifeless, halfway up the riverbank...

 

 

**

 

 

“I’m so sorry, Bilbo...”

Frodo had tightened his hold on his Uncle when someone patted them both on their shoulders. He had no interest in seeing or talking to anyone.

“They found this....” The voice continued, but Frodo hugged Bilbo even tighter not to hear what they had to say.

“What’s this... A ring?” Bilbo mumbled.

He had wanted to look up then, to see what Bilbo was talking about, but he couldn’t get himself to turn his head. And then Bilbo had kissed his curls, and whispered into his ear: “Would you like to come back to Bag End with me?” And Frodo had nodded against his shoulder, allowing himself a little smile as Bilbo lifted him up, and into his arms...

 

**Author's Note:**

> Woohooo! Happy birthday to me! *eats more cake*  
> I'M SO SORRY IT WAS A SAD MATHOM. I'M HORRIBLE. Please forgive me :') You see, this fic is partly the reason why I'm not done with a way more happy and fluffy one, I just had to write it when I got the idea! The next I post will be the happy one :)
> 
> A big thank you to [Sarah](https://viahhapocalyptica.tumblr.com/) and [MistakenMagic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistakenMagic) for listening to my ramblings and for all the help and betaing!! <3
> 
>  
> 
> [This fic's tumblr post](http://gaaladrieel.tumblr.com/post/159649299365/secrets-of-the-brandywine-oneshot-1745-words/)


End file.
